


My Eyes are up Here (But Feel Free to Look)

by KokoBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Jesse's big McDick, Love at First Sight, M/M, in love with the dick that is, silly tumblr drabble, tease fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KokoBean/pseuds/KokoBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon goes for a walk for some inner peace, finds a Coyote instead. Who knew Coyotes could climb cliffs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Eyes are up Here (But Feel Free to Look)

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from tumblr frand Cyberratting, partner in crime in smutland. \\( * u*)/
> 
> Prompt was, "*tap dances in* Hanzo was just minding his own business taking a walk when he stumbles innocently across deviant!McCree who is jerking it right there in the open. Hanzo can't help but admire that big American D and everything that is McCree in general :D", and DAMN! DAMN!!! I had to.
> 
> I love prompt suggestions! Send them to me on my tumblr ( link in profile )

Growing up, nighttime strolls are one of Hanzo’s few respites from duty. Now an adult, hounded by the demons and guilt of the past, not much has changed beyond the surroundings. Steel walls and shipping crates have taken the place of the beautiful cherry trees and manicured pathways of the castle gardens, the Gibraltar base by no means a home but something close.   
  
It’s a rare night when the base is quiet; there’s too may agents coming and going at odd times and timezones will mess up the best of people. So when it finally is, Hanzo takes advantage of it, freely wandering the halls and catwalks with ease and a lightness he hasn’t felt in weeks.   
  
The breeze coming off of the Mediterranean is calming, a balm to frayed nerves as he reclines on the cliff side, and he’s just about to uncork his flask of sake when he hears it. A rustle, louder than a sea bird in the brush, followed by a barely there groan, almost pained. It couldn’t be an intruder- Athena hadn’t sent up an alarm -but one couldn’t be too careful. And if it wasn’t, perhaps it was a hurt teammate. But who would be up at this hour?

Lithe as a cat, Hanzo flattens to the dry grass and prowls on hands and knees towards the slope of a hill, beyond which the noise had come from. However, years of training couldn’t quite prepare him for the sight waiting for him on the other side.   
  
There, tucked into the curve of the cliff and almost hidden by shrubs, is the insufferable cowboy- _McCree-_ Hanzo’s brain supplies helpfully. And McCree is definitely not in pain, ridiculous hat askew on his head, tilted back against the rock with a lazy expression of ecstasy on his scruffy face, eyes closed and his cybernetic hand buried in his own hair.   
Hanzo can’t help himself as his eyes trail down- _he isn’t wearing his chestplate, his shirt is unbuttoned-_ berates himself for not stopping- _his pants are thrown open, spurs jangling as he digs his heels in the dirt-_ and feels his thoughts screech to a halt when his gaze lands on the cowboy’s flesh hand, sans glove.

Because there, flushed red and needy with the shine of slick, is McCree’s _very_ erect and _very_ large cock, loosely held and lovingly stroked. As Hanzo watches, McCree’s hand pulls the foreskin slowly away from the head, precome eagerly beading up and drooling down the generous length.  
  
Hanzo’s mouth is dry for a split second before it floods with saliva, an embarrassing knee-jerk reaction followed by a barely-there wheezing whimper that he’ll later deny making.   
  
McCree has obviously been at it for a while, going by the ruts in the dirt from his boots and the way Hanzo can  _see_ that gloriously thick cock _throb,_ even from this distance. McCree is making these throaty little noises, bitten off groans and husking huffs of breath that could be called growls, and Hanzo imagines how they’d sound muffled between his thighs.   
  
Hanzo presses himself closer to the ground, caught between leaving out of propriety and wanting to remain the guilty voyeur, heat curling low at the base of his spine.   
The movement, however, rustles the flask where it was balanced in it’s ties on the backside of his hip, sending it rolling forward to hit against the ground with a hollow ‘thup’. _Sloppy, Shimada.  
_  
Hanzo freezes, hoping the noise is minuscule enough that McCree doesn't notice, slowly glancing back down to where he expects to find one very flustered cowboy.   
  
Instead, he’s met by McCree calmly staring back at him, the moon lighting up the smug smirk on his barbaric- _roguishly handsome-_ features. The cowboy shifts, rolling his shoulders back against the rock to let his shirt slide open more, sweat gleaming in the hair of his chest and cheekily exposing one dusky nipple. His hand hasn’t stopped sluggishly stroking, and instead, his hips have canted to give Hanzo a better view of his beautifully thick cock and the sharp jut of hipbones.   
  
McCree huffs a laugh, and Hanzo flushes in mortification even as shivers race over him from the sound.   
  
“Y'gonna join me, darlin’, or do I gotta beg?” the cowboy asks, his voice so much deeper than what Hanzo is used to hearing from him, and _gods help him_ he wants to hear it more.   
  
Hanzo has never moved faster in his life, effortlessly scaling to McCree and nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. McCree is kind enough to not mention it, his smirk only growing wider as he reaches out his metal hand, warm from skin, to beckon to the archer.   
And, hopeless and helpless, Hanzo nearly collapses into the cowboy, the smokey laugh that follows warming him from the inside out.   
  
Hanzo is incredibly thankful that he didn’t leave, and even more-so that he has a habit of midnight wanderings. His dragons definitely approved of the coyote they’d found.


End file.
